


All of This Was Planned When the World Was Started

by Dryad



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Gen, Homophobia, Racism Few Will Notice, Threats of Violence, Unless You're British
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-13 11:10:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18939739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: And just like that, everything changed, even as it stayed the same.





	All of This Was Planned When the World Was Started

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pagimag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagimag/gifts).



> Pagimag, your letter was the perfect fit for me.
> 
> I hope what I've written is the perfect fit for you.

"She's a fucking panty-licking dyke - "

Bit rich, coming from two girls with their arms interlinked, John thought. But Sarah and Julie had always been a pair of cunts, so he didn't pay any more attention to them. Besides, the man was waiting for his money.

"Ta very much," he said. He paid the man his coin and took his 99 in return, crossing the road a moment later without care. 

The day was overcast and coming up _right dreich_ as Uncle Alec would say, with a stiff breeze coming in from the sea and clouds scudding across the sky, rain threatening to fall every other second. Besides the secondary classes there weren't too many people outside this morning, and fewer still were eating vanilla ice cream with a Flake sticking out of the top of it.

John heard screams; Abdel, Colin, Gemma, and Gary were at the water's edge. The boys were shoving Gemma towards the foam, but she kept laughing in between shouting for them to stop.

Stupid cow.

Gemma was the 'it' girl this year. He wasn't sure why. She was pretty enough, sure, in a certain kind of way. Well, she had big boobs and a tendency towards shirts that Mrs. Howard always told her to button up. She was very popular with a certain set of boys, of whom John was not one. That hadn't kept him from trying it on with her. She'd shot him down right there in the hallway, right in front of Aimee Brook, who couldn't even be bothered to turn away to laugh.

John had swung away, cheeks flaming, utterly mortified. Hugh and Cameron had clapped on the back, as if he'd done something terribly clever. Honestly, he'd just asked a girl out and she'd said no, it wasn't that big of a deal.

At least, that's what he told himself in the privacy of his room later on while Dusty wailed away on the record player.

The tide was coming in, faster than the group on the beach realized. He leaned on the railing and took a bite from the top of the Flake. Shards of chocolate that otherwise might have melted onto his school uniform blew away in the wind, bringing him a ridiculous little slice of happiness. He took what he could get these days. Home was bad; year 9 was little better. Still, a day away from Sun Hill and the rest of Allandale Comprehensive was something. Below, Gemma shrieked as she was nearly knocked over by a body check from Gary. Her _"Fuck off!"_ was just as ineffectual as John knew it would be.

So intent was he upon the scene that he missed Paddy's usual elephant-like footsteps, and thus nearly lost his ice cream in fright when his back was hit by what seemed to be a cricket bat.

"I can't believe you're getting away with that!"

John shrugged.

Paddy shook his head in a mix of envy and admiration. "It's not even lunchtime yet!"

"I live to rebel," answered John.

"Wonder if I could get one without anyone noticing..." said Paddy, rummaging in his trouser pockets. "John, can I - "

"Yeah yeah. Here, good luck," John gave Paddy 50p, not quite the remainder of his change, but all he was going to let Paddy borrow. He wasn't made of money, despite popular opinion. Just because he had goals in mind for himself, goals that required the saving of every penny, that didn't mean he was going to spend it on scroungers and loungers.

"Thanks mate!"

John gave him a little wave and returned his attention to the beach. Gemma was on the move now, trotting along the waterline with the boys following, like a fox desperate not to get treed by a pack of hounds. Her own fault, really. Their fun had turned edgy; John didn't like it. When Gemma suddenly turned and raced for the stairs leading to the esplanade, John slowly followed, one hand on the railing, keeping her in his line of sight. Stupid bint. Didn't she know you never ran? You held your ground and took whatever was dished out? Show an enemy a single weakness and you were done for, end of.

Gemma reached the stairs and took them two at a time. 

"Nice pink pants, let me know when you want to take them off!" jeered Colin, grabbing his crotch. The other boys howled with laughter, pointing and whistling. 

Gemma didn't look at them once she reached the esplanade, walking quickly towards John. As she neared, he said, "Hey, are you -" 

"Piss off!" she shouted into his face.

"Right..." he muttered, turning to watch as she stalked away. After all he'd done, too, keeping an eye on her like that. A cold drop of water fell on his cheek, and then his hand. Rain was coming sooner rather than later. The 99 had lost its appeal, and since Paddy had gone elsewhere, John tossed the remainder of his cone over the railing. Several seagulls immediately launched themselves into the air to get to the treat.

Ugh, that hadn't been rain on his hand, it was a slick of melted ice cream. He licked it with distate, wiped his hand on his trousers afterwards. Done tidying, he blew out a noisy breath and looked from left to right. No one was about except some girl in the alley almost directly across the road. Though she was half-hidden behind an overflowing skip, he could tell she was one of his classmates. The charcoal skirt and very edge of navy jacket was a dead giveaway. She bent over more. Maybe she lost an earring? A contact? 

The girl suddenly straightened - oh, it was Michelle Givens - and looked directly at him. Her eyes grew big and when she glanced down again, he knew something was wrong. What the hell?

"Michelle!" he called, taking a step forward.

She held up both hands, shaking her head. "It's fine, every thing's fine! You don't have to come over!"

He wasn't the type of bloke to believe anyone who said that, not with his family. 

By the time he reached the alley mouth she had backed up a bit, leaving an excellent view of a pair of legs bare from ankle to knee, a long scrape beaded with blood running the length of both shins. As he looked beyond the edge of the skip he was unsurprised to find his big sister, blood pouring down her face, bright red where it had spattered onto her white shirt. She sat amidst the filth on the ground, leaning against the slime covered brick wall, looking like the sad remnant of a Saturday night gone wrong. The shock was brief - it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before.

John crouched at her feet, not yet ready to offer help, because Harry was prickly at the best of times.

"I'm fine," she muttered, the words muffled as she tried to stem the flow coming from her nose.

"Hardly," he replied, fishing out a handkerchief from the inside of his jacket. "Let me see."

She waved his hand away. "Just leave it, Johnny."

He frowned. "Really? Really? I find my sister in an alley with a bloody nose and you just want me to go away, is that it?"

"I'm going to go," said Michelle, edging away from them both. "I'll see you on the bus, yeah?"

John knew he was making the face Harry hated, but he couldn't help it. She always accused him of being judgmental, yet how could he not be when she was in this state?

"So you going to tell me who did this or what?" he asked, putting first one knee and then the other directly into a cold puddle of...well, better not to think about it. Harry darted a look at him before dropping her gaze to her hands. The knuckles of which were also raw and red. He peered at her forehead, wincing at the impression of what might be a fine grater if one didn't know better. "I hope you gave as good as you got."

Harry snorted, but otherwise kept silent. That was fine, it gave him time to assess her state of mind (belligerent), the rest of her clothing (well marked, with a couple of recent rips and tears), the bruises beginning to bloom on her wrists. Time to breathe deeply at the fingermarks he could see on her collarbone, where the shirt buttons at her neck had been ripped away from their holes. 

The blood from her nose had slowed down to a trickle, but he dabbed at it anyway. Ineffectual at best. He rewrapped the hankie and started at her hairline instead. He could at least make that scrape less visible.

"Want to know why they did it?"

"There was a reason?"

She glared at him, mouth set mulelishly. "They found out that I'm _gay_ , Johnny. That I like _girls_."

"Yeah," he said with a shrug, not meeting her eyes. "I know." 

But the thing was, he hadn't known until he said exactly that, that he did know. In that instant everything coalesced, shrank down to a pinprick that exploded with information a milisecond later. Their entire history as siblings thrown into high-bas relief in early morning sun, clarity for the first time ever. 

"You-you _know??_ How could you have known??"

He shrugged again. 

Before she had a chance to answer, Mr. Hardy came storming in from the road as fast as his short legs allowed. "Miss Watson! John! What's going on here?"

John stood and moved to the side. Mr. Hardy brooked no argument when it came to matters physical, always taking things to the extreme in the belief that he was a righteous and honourable man. Unfortunately he was just as likely to hold John responsible as anyone else.

"John, go call for an ambulance. Miss Watson, you stay down until we can get you some help."

He wasn't able to move. All he could do was stand still, belly queasy, rough from ice cream on an empty stomach. 

"JOHN!" barked Mr. Hardy. "Ambulance, now!"

Okay, yes, ambulance. He started for the road, turned back, because what if she really wasn't 'fine'? 

Much to his shock, she was staring at him, too, with something like relief. 

He nodded. "Because you're my sister," he said, and meant it.

0oOoOoOoOoOoOOOoOoOo0oOoO

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this short piece is a lyric from one my new favorite bands, The Midnight. 
> 
> [_Memories_](https://youtu.be/JQqFeCCuwW0) is actually a love song, but I thought it really captured that feeling when you remember times of pure joy and love with another person when your relationship with them is complicated and frequently melancholic.
> 
> If you like Memories (or even if you don't!), I highly recommend giving Shadows, Explorers, and Gloria a go. The Midnight are just amazing.
> 
> [Anyone who had a heart](https://youtu.be/0yJqufpdR0E) \- Dusty Springfield


End file.
